Blow(49)

“And how much longer are you going to pretend that look on your face isn’t what I thought it was when we first started this discussion?”

I shook my head, getting a little aggravated with his misdirected focus. “Give it a rest, old man. I’ve already told you, there’s nothing there.”

He stared at me, his mood contemplative. “I’ll let it go for now, but only because there are more important things to focus on. Was she hurt? Were there any messages left?”

I leaned against the wall. “No, she wasn’t hurt. I’m not sure about any messages.”

His wheels were spinning. “Then it wasn’t Patrick or his prick son, for that matter. The one thing you can count on is that they are lowlife scum. If it had been them, there would have been no doubt it was.”

I sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I think. Which is why I think there’s time to get Elle and her family out of this.”

The hardness was back in his features. “Come over here, sit down, and listen to me.”

By the time I slid the chair over and sat, I was all worked up again.

Gramps leaned forward with that scowl on his face. “I’m going to tell you right now, you give O’Shea that money and you’re opening up a can of worms you won’t be able to crawl out of. First, it means you’re getting involved in the drug ring, and you know as soon as the DEA sees you on that radar, they’ll be up your ass. And second, I know Patrick. He’s not going to let that debt be settled so easily. Even if it was O’Shea’s wife running things, O’Shea obviously knew about it. Patrick will use him until there’s nothing left and once he’s useless, Patrick will dispose of him.”

Harsh words, and I didn’t want to process them. “But he has a little girl. What if she gets hurt?”

My grandfather shrugged coolly. “Collateral damage never bothered Patrick.”

Furious, I stood back up and began pacing. “And the wife’s sister?”

Again with the cool demeanor. “More than likely, she’ll be dead by association, and anyone else who he’s close with.”

I slammed my hand against the wall.

“Admit it, boy. She’s the one?”

Annoyed, I turned to face him. “The one what?” I barked.

His face creased. “The one that has got your insides twisted all up. Whether you want to admit it to me or not, at least admit it to yourself.”

Sighing, I couldn’t believe I was saying this. “So what if she is?”

He drew in a deep worried breath. “Walk away, Logan,” he almost pleaded.

I crossed the room and stood in front of him. “I’m not doing that.”

Silence filled the space and I could see the harshness in his facial expression fading. Finally he spoke. “That’s what I thought. Tell me, what’s your father’s involvement?”

I brought my temper down a notch as well. “Minimal. He’s just the messenger. Even if Patrick wanted to involve him further, he doesn’t trust him enough.”

Gramps nodded. “That’s good. He won’t get hurt that way.”

He knew I was stronger than my father. After all, he made me that way. Not only in the physical sense, but in my fortitude as well. Gramps hadn’t taught my father the ways of the street. My grandmother wanted her boys to have a different life and he’d agreed. But as time passed, he learned that wasn’t always possible and he worried for me, which is why he took me under his wing. He taught me what he’d neglected to teach my father. That’s why my awareness and resolve was more like a soldier’s, whereas my father was like a new recruit, not entirely brought in.

Unfortunately, my father also used booze as a crutch, and that was a dangerous thing. Then again, having your life turned upside down would do that to a guy. And working with Patrick had done just that to my old man. As soon as he started, my mother found out and demanded I stay in New York full-time and attend school there. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. My father made me go. I wanted him to move there too. He couldn’t, though, and I knew it. So instead, he was forced to lead a life he’d never wanted.

All because of what I’d done when I was fifteen.

I looked at my grandfather and braced myself for the fallout. “I’m going to have to talk to Patrick myself.”

The old man rose so fast, he had me by the shirt collar before I knew what was happening. In a beat, he pushed me back and slammed me against the wall. “You even think about going to see him and I’ll kill you myself.”

I stayed where I was. Shocked that he had that much fight left in him. “What else can I do?”

When he released me, he almost collapsed.

I grabbed him and helped him back to the bed.

Once he was sitting, he said, “Bring that chair over here.”

I again moved the f*cking chair.

With my ass on the hard wood, he pulled my face close to his. “Here’s what you’re going to do.”

I listened intently.

Absorbing every word.

The old man knew best.





ELLE


Something wasn’t right.

I pulled into the side driveway of Michael’s corner lot and put my car in park. With a flick of the switch, the interior light turned on and I proceeded to search the floor. It wasn’t there.